Better Late Than Never, Right?
by warrior of the nile
Summary: John comes home one day to find milk, beans and jam on the kitchen table. His mind automatically goes to the last conversation before the Pool, when Sherlock promised to get some. But it's just a coincidence, right? He has been dead for three years. Well... considering the git sleeping on the couch... not so much.


For the depths of my hard drive comes a story I forgot to post after I finished it. I know this is a bit late for anyone in the UK or anyone else who has seen season three, but I wanted to post this anyways. Still speculation for me and not officially AU since I haven't seen the reunion yet (curses life!). Plus it was fun to write. *shrugs* Whatever, I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached.

* * *

It's late when John gets back from the pub. It had been a last minute decision to go after work and he's glad to be home. It was loud and rowdy and he mainly stayed so he could say 'See, I'm not a hermit, I go out' to the people who still periodically bother him about it. He is well aware that he changed after Sherlock's death, there was no need to remind him of it.

He doesn't turn on any lights as he goes into the kitchen to make himself a quick cup of tea before going to bed. He curses when he opens the fridge. No milk. And this time he can't even blame Sherlock for the lack of it.

But the light of the refrigerator reflects off of something on the table and John turns on a light to look at it. And stares.

Milk, beans and three jars of his favorite jam.

There is probably a perfectly ration explanation for this. It could have been Mrs Hudson or Lestrade or hell, even Molly. They all have gotten into the habit of checking up on him and have never stopped, even after all this time.

But his mind is thrown back to that conversation over four years ago now, right before the Pool. The one where Sherlock offered to get milk and beans for John. Of course the git never did.

Now though...

John walks into the living room and throws a light on, wanting to convince himself to stop being stupid. There is no way, his brain is just making connections, this is crazy... Except there, sleeping on the couch, is Sherlock.

He is dressed differently, in jeans and a flannel instead of a designer suit. His hair is shorter than John has ever seen it. There are lines on his face, even in sleep, that weren't there before. But it is Sherlock none the less.

John takes a deep breath and walks closer. The detective looks exhausted. He doesn't even twitch as John grabs a blanket and covers him. Then he simply stares.

How is he suppose to process this? How, after three years, is he suppose to accept that his best mate had been alive this whole time. How can he reconcile the image of Sherlock, bloody and broken on the ground, to Sherlock now, soundly sleeping and perfectly safe? How is he suppose to feel?

Shock is obviously the first emotion. Then comes the joy of having him back, finally getting him miracle. Inevitably it doesn't last long and then comes anger, hurt, betrayal. All of the negative emotions. He has an urge to shake Sherlock awake so he can punch him.

But then Sherlock gives a contented sigh and wraps the blanket around him tighter, still soundly asleep.

The urge leaves. Damn the man. He always had a way of manipulating John perfectly to do what he wanted. It seems that hasn't changed, even when he is unconscious, all these years later.

Then he remembers the items in the kitchen and has to chuckle. Sherlock had always been the worse at apologies. He couldn't offer a good one to save a life. So he developed his own nonverbal system instead.

John can recognize the items for what they are- the highest form of apology.

Most people would be outraged by this system. Milk and jam instead of an honest apology and an effort not to do it again? Pathetic.

But John knows Sherlock. He knows that there will always be body parts in the fridge and experiments exploding in the kitchen. He knows Sherlock will continue to be offensive and rude to other people. He knows Sherlock will sulk for days and shoot the wall when he's bored. So if John doesn't have to buy the milk that is always disappearing? Great.

Shaking his head, he gets up and makes himself that cup of tea after putting everything away. He takes his seat in his chair and tries to work this out rationally. Sherlock never did anything without a reason, logic. It may be twisted by normal standards, but Sherlock is always logical.

So why would he jump off a roof, obviously faking his death, and come back three years later?

The first, glaring obvious fact is that this had something to do with Moriarty. Nothing else fits. And Moriarty was a sadistic bastard who wanted to ruin Sherlock. Okay, so from that John can conclude he had a hand in making Sherlock jump.

Next, the lie. And it was a lie and the worse one Sherlock ever told him. Not only because it wasn't true, but because it wasn't convincing _at all_. Over time John had developed a skill for reading Sherlock and that included knowing when he was being lied to. So, a false trail. Or could it be- John forces himself to remember exactly what Sherlock said- either some odd, twisted form of closure or... "It's all a magic trick"... a message? One that John didn't pick up on.

Right, now John knows his limits. He knows he's not going to be able to figure out how Sherlock did it. And that's not important right now anyways. So, moving on, what would Sherlock be doing all of these years? That he is back now implies that he had _something_ he needed to accomplish and it's now completed. Well this started with Moriarty, so it's a good chance that it involves him.

But what? What could he be doing, and doing alone, he might add? Because John is the only person Sherlock works with willingly. And why, if he had work to do, couldn't he have taken John with him?

Logic, logic... logic. "I'd be lost without my blogger" "You are a true conductor of light" "I don't have friends, I only have one" "You see, but you do not observe"

"No shit Sherlock," John mutters to the last thought. What could it be?

"I will burn the heart out of you"

Moriarty, right. So if he threatened John once, he wouldn't hesitate to do it again. Especially since he knew he was Sherlock's weakness. He used John against him. Threatened to kill him? Most likely. He wasn't _that_ original.

"Alone protects me" "Friends protect people"

Oh... would he pretend to kill himself to protect John? It's an idiotic plan, of course he would.

So if the jump was to protect John, what the hell was he doing afterward? Still protecting John? Why? How?

Let's see, he is an insane master criminal who wants to destroy Sherlock more than anything. Would he continue to be a pain in the arse even after he is found dead on the roof of St Bart's?

Of course he would.

So Sherlock needed to remove that threat. How? Well how does a criminal mastermind control people from beyond the grave? Crazy loyalty, great benefits and a very good right hand man.

How many people would he have to eliminate? Just the second in command? More? Does it really matter? He's home now, so it's obviously over. Now all that is left are the scars of the past. And if John is right, he's still pissed at Sherlock, but... well, the man took on at least part of a criminal web for him. If that doesn't say 'you are important to me' nothing does.

And that begs the question of loyalty. Not if Sherlock is, but just how much he is. Protecting a friend is one thing. Doing this, spending three years fighting... whoever... that's another. That goes beyond simple friendship. And yeah, they past that point long ago. But they never acknowledged it. John didn't think Sherlock wanted it acknowledged.

But if he does...

Well John is fine with that. He's been in love with the nutter for awhile. The only reason he never said anything is because he didn't think it would be welcome. But if it is, John is definitely open to the idea.

John continues to sit and think and watch until he falls asleep.

The next day he wakes up with a crick in his neck. Sherlock is still sleeping soundly, showing no signs of waking soon. John has to wonder just what exactly he went through to be in this state. Of course, knowing the idiot, he simply forgot to sleep and eat. After all, it's just transport.

And that sounds way too fond.

He gets up, eats breakfast, changes and goes to the gym he joined not long after Sherlock jumped. It may seem stupid, but he couldn't bare the thought of getting out of shape. Sherlock had helped him retain his muscle tone from the army, but when he was gone... well he couldn't bare to let it waste away. Plus it always helped to have something to punch when the mood suited him.

That's what he does now, working out all of his anger and frustration and betrayal he feels. After all, just because he knows why doesn't mean he's happy about it. And if he doesn't do it now, he's going to do it later. On Sherlock's face. Not the best life choice, that.

He's just thankful he doesn't have to work today because there is no way he would be able to concentrate enough to do anything. And it's not like he can talk to anyone. Wouldn't _that_ be interesting. 'Sorry I'm in a mood today, but my previously dead best mate, who jumped off a roof in front of me, is sleeping on our couch in the flat and I'm a bit angry at him'... Yeah.

When he's done he gets something quick to eat at Speedy's, takes a shower and settles down with his laptop to wait for Sherlock to wake. He finally begins to stir around four, but doesn't fully wake until an hour later. John has Chinese take out and tea waiting for him.

He opens one eye sleepily and a bit warily. John shoves the food in his face. "Eat," he orders.

Sherlock obeys without a word. He watches John out of the corner of his eye while he does, but never meets his eyes or says a word.

"Any injuries?" John asks when they are finished.

Sherlock shakes his head.

"Good, that's good." There is an awkward pause as John doesn't know what to say next and Sherlock doesn't fill the silence. Everything about him seems to scream uncomfortable. "Oh fuck it," John declares as he goes over to the couch and pulls the detective into a tight hug.

Sherlock goes rigid with shock before he practically melts into him. He nuzzles John's neck and sighs with contentment as John runs his hand through his hair. "Nutter. God, you're such an idiot, you git. And a twit. My mad hatter," John mummers, not really paying attention to what he's actually saying. But once again, it's way too fond.

"You aren't anger," Sherlock observes, a question he won't voice in it.

John shrugs. "You were asleep for almost a day. I had time to work some things out."

"And what have you deduced, my dear doctor?"

"Moriarty forced you to jump, most likely by threatening me. I don't care how you did it, so I didn't try to figure that out. He killed himself, but he let behind a web, which you being an idiot, took on _by yourself_. Not exactly sure how much of it you took on though. At least his second in command. It's finished now, which is why you were passed out when I came home. You also were crap at taking care of yourself, no real surprise there. And you..." He pauses, not sure if he should go on. After all, it's only a hunch, but... 'my dear doctor'? It's a good clue.

"Yes?" Sherlock sounds positively delighted, probably at the fact that John _deduced_. Brains really is the new sexy.

Oh what the hell. "You want an official relationship with me."

Sherlock smiles against his neck.

"How much did I get right?"

"Almost all. He threatened not only you, but Lestrade and Mrs Hudson as well. And I destroyed the entire web."

John takes a deep breath. "_Idiot,_" he says with feeling.

"Hmmm," Sherlock hums, not outright denying it.

John sighs. "Welcome back my mad hatter," he says before he kisses him softly.

Sherlock hums again in reply before shifting closer.

Nutter.


End file.
